


Keep Loving Me

by Saphyrah



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bartender Sam, Bartender Sam Winchester, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Porn With Plot, Sex Toys, Shower Sex, Smut, Stripper Dean, Stripper Dean Winchester, Unrelated Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Unrelated Winchesters, Wincest AU - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 11:18:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12652524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saphyrah/pseuds/Saphyrah
Summary: Sam works as a bartender in the "Black Bird". Dean works as a stripper in the same bar, and both of them crush on the other. They just don't know that yet. But when Dean asks Sam to fuck him, they both get the chance to get to know each other.





	Keep Loving Me

In reality it's sticky and dark and smells like smoke and cheap beer. But for Sam, it smells like dark desire. This is the place where Sam meets him, but as soon he gets out of that door, they are strangers again. The „Black Bird“ is a small bar in Greeley, Pennsylvania and Sam Winchester works as a bartender. Then there is this guy Sam is secretly in love with. His name is Dean, and he's a stripper. That's where this dark desire smell comes from, Sam keeps thinking, because he wants Dean, but he can't have him. Dean is a stripper. Dean doesn't like shy bartenders, even when they can be kinky in bed. But nobody knows that Sam has this desire, or that he can be kinky in bed, or that he is secretly crushing on the hottest male stripper in the universe. Sam hates himself for falling for Dean. Who falls in love with a stripper? It's not just his perfect body, Sam convinces himself. It's not just those eyes and lips and muscles. No, the guy is also smart and funny and understanding. Of course Sam hasn't yet talked to him. But he can sometimes hear him talking to one of the girls, and when he closes his eyes while listening closely, he can imagine that it's him who Dean is talking to. But that's just his imagination. Dean is a stripper, popular, good looking, oh scratch that, he's hot, and he has absolutely no interest in Sam. But Sam's heart doesn't know that.

Sam is tired, it's already past midnight and he's been standing behind that counter for six hours now. That's when the music gets louder all of a sudden, the lights dim and Sam doesn't have to take a look because he knows exactly what is happening. He hears cheers and laughter and soft moans and then he does turn around and takes a look at Dean. He is only wearing dark leather pants and a smug grin and Sam falls for him head over heels all over again. He tries his best not to blush or grow a boner, but then again, who would even notice if they could look at Dean instead? Dean moves with the music, and he circles his hips, and Sam's lips part as he watches the other male dance oh so slowly to the crappy music. Sam can see Dean's emerald eyes sparkle, the male clearly loving his job. He gets down on his knees, his perfectly shaped ass high up in the air as he looks up and catches Sam's eyes with his own. The music seems to stop all of a sudden and the air gets even thicker, hotter. Sam begins to sweat and he really wants to look away, but he just physically can't. It's like everything freezes around him and all he can do is stare into Dean's beautiful eyes. The moment is over as Dean gets up again, collecting some of the money those idiots of customers are throwing onto the stage. Sam looks away again, he doesn't want to see how Dean pulls down his leather pants or how he teases his long fingers around the black lacy panties he's wearing underneath. Why does Dean wear black lacy panties underneath? How is Sam supposed to stay all professional when Dean wears black lacy panties? Sam groans frustratedly, not allowing his eyes to take another look at Dean for the rest of the show.

Everything passes in a blur for him as the night progresses, hours pass and customers come and go. Sam serves drinks and wipes down the counter, occasionally talking to one of the regulars. He tries not to think about Dean and he actually doesn't until about half past three, as he hears a low, scratchy voice. “I'll take a beer”, Dean says and smirks as Sam freezes in his movement. It's the first time that Dean's words are actually for him, not for a busty girl or a guy with more muscles than brain. “Can I get my beer, Sammy?” Dean asks softly again and Sam coughs. Dean knows his name. Why does Dean know his name? The stripper leans against the counter, wearing a tight black shirt and jeans, at least from what Sam is able to see, and Sam immediately wonders if he still wears his panties. Dean's face is just inches from Sam's and if he wanted to, Sam would actually be able to count the freckles on the other male's nose. “Yeah, sure, sorry” Sam mumbles and blushes. He quickly turns away to get the beer for Dean, feeling the other man stare at his back. As Sam turns around again, Dean tilts his head and looks at him. “So, Sammy, when are you off tonight?” he asks casually, and Sam nearly lets the beer fall out of his hand. He coughs, setting the drink on the counter as he leans forward. He can smell Dean's cheap cologne mixed with the unmistakable scent of leather and beer because Dean's just taking the first sip. Sam's heart beats in sync with the music in the background. Why is Dean talking to him? Why does Dean want to know when he is off tonight? This has to be a joke to Dean, but to Sam, it isn't.

“In case you haven't noticed, I'm the only bartender here, so I have to stay until everybody else is gone. Why do you wanna know?” Sam thinks he can be proud of himself. Two sentences, one of them even a question, not to bad for a shy bartender who crushes on the hottest stripper. He felt his body thrumming with excitement and fear, fear of saying something stupid or doing something stupid or maybe just fear of being too stupid for Dean. It's the fear of loosing something you don't even have, and Sam has always been afraid of that. Now that Dean is actually standing in front of Sam, he knows that Dean would probably break his heart if they somehow ended up together. Dean wears that smug grin and bites that luscious red lips, and he wraps them around the beer bottle in a way that only leaves one question, that question being “damn, how good would his lips look around my cock?” Hopefully he didn't say that out loud, Sam thinks, quickly closing his eyes as Dean starts to lick around the tip of the bottle. There's no way Sam can survive this night without a boner, he's sure at this point. “What would you say if I kept you company until everybody's gone and then we make this night a fun night?” Dean asks and Sam's mouth falls open, the question leaving the young man behind the counter unable to get another word out.

It's a little after four in the morning as the last guest leaves. Dean is still sitting at the counter as Sam wipes it one last time for the night. The music plays quietly in the background. Sam avoids looking at Dean and Dean doesn't talk much, just occasionally making a comment about something unimportant like the way this customer walks or how that customer shouldn't drink his sixth shot. Sam doesn't ask what Dean meant with the “fun night”, and Dean doesn't tell him. In fact, Sam is so busy with serving drinks and cleaning up everything that he doesn't even have time to think about Dean. When he sees the old (and at this point very drunk) Larry Bloomer walk out of the door, it suddenly comes all back to him. Now Dean and Sam are the only two people in the room and there's no point in pretending that Dean isn't there because he is. Dean is there. Dean with the cocky grin and the emerald green eyes and the black lacy panties that he wears underneath his pants. Dean who doesn't actually like him because they don't even know each other. Then why is he here? Does he want to talk? Or is he looking for a good fuck? Did he catch Sam staring at him and now is all angry or something? Sam doesn't know, but how do you ask a guy like Dean why the heck he hangs out with a shy, busy bartender? But Dean doesn't give Sam enough time to think of something to say. “So, Sammy, now we're all alone”, he says and leans towards Sam with a smirk. “I suggest we get this over with. You comin'?” Dean asks and gets up, pointing at the door with a nod of his head.

“Whoa, wait” Sam finds himself saying, trying to figure out what Dean could mean. “I want you to fuck me, Sammy. And I don't fuck in that sweet little bar of yours, but the alley will do. Guess you won't need much time either.” Dean shrugs and nods at the door again, just as Sam shakes his head. “I don't… I don't fuck with strangers” Sam murmurs. What did he expect? An actual date? Of course Dean wants sex, nothing more. He watches in shock as Dean slowly walks up to him, his head tilted, and he gets closer and closer until there is no space left between them and Dean's lips hover just above Sam's. And Dean doesn't waste any more time before he presses his red, plump lips against Sam's in a sloppy, wet kiss. Dean shoves him back against the wall, both of Sam's wrists pinned to either side of his head. The kiss ends as quickly and abrupt as it began and Sam lets out a shaky breath. “Now we're not strangers anymore”, Dean says quickly and takes Sam's hand, pulling him out of the bar before Sam can even realize what just happened. Again Sam is shoved against a wall, but this time Dean doesn't care about kissing. He sinks to his knees in front of Sam and pulls down his pants and boxers in one swift motion. Cold air hits Sam's half-hard cock and he flinches, but soon the coldness is replaced by the wet heat of Dean's mouth. Before Sam can say or do anything, Dean has his lips wrapped around Sam's cock, sucking and swirling his tongue and dipping it into the slit which makes Sam go crazy. Dean sucks his cock, Sam keeps thinking, and the thought alone was so strange and disconcerting that Sam doesn't even realize that they are in an alley behind a bar, out in the open where everybody could see them.

Dean can't believe that Sam's cock is that big. The shy, handsome bartender has an enormous cock and Dean can't even take him in his mouth completely. So he just wraps his hand around what doesn't fit, jerking him slowly as he sucks Sam's cock like it's a lollipop. He looks up at Sam in what he hopes is an innocent expression, but Sam doesn't even notice. His head is thrown back against the hard brick wall and his lips are parted. Dean gets hard just from the little noises the other man makes, tiny whimpers and moans and gasps. Finally, Dean pulls away. He doesn't want Sam to come in his mouth, at least not tonight. Sam slowly regains most of his awareness. Dean can see that in the way Sam suddenly tries to cover himself up, but boy, there's nothing Dean hasn't seen already. Mainly because he wants to make Sam feel comfortable but also because he secretly loves the bartender's soft lips, Dean kisses him again. This time, it's more soft and gentle and less sloppy and heated. Dean enjoys kissing Sam and hopefully, he does too. Dean quickly pulls down his pants to his ankles, but leaves on his panties. He hears a surprised gasp from Sam and wait, did he just say “I knew it”? Dean shakes his head, then turns to the wall, spreading his legs. “Come on, Sammy, fuck me. I know you want that pretty hole. Saw you staring at me when I was on stage. Bet you've wanted to fuck me there, for all people to see” Dean teases, smirking at Sam.

It's not Sam's typical behavior. He doesn't just fuck strangers behind a bar. But somehow, Dean is different. Of course he's not a stranger, technically, and he is hot too. So why does Sam hesitate? With a low growl Sam steps between Dean's legs, and he's fully hard and turned on and now Dean would get to see Sam's not so shy, kinky side. “How you looked at me, on your knees, so needy. Need my come in your hole, Dean? Want me to use you like the cockslut you are? I saw it in your eyes, they've begged me for a good fuck. Spread your legs, baby, let me see your tight little hole” Sam whispers into Dean's ear and he can sense the stripper shiver in anticipation. Dean shows off his ass, pushing back against Sam's cock and Sam moans loudly. The sound is very much audible in the quiet alley. Sam brings his hands down to Dean's ass cheeks and he pulls the panties away, moving his fingers to Dean's hole. And holy fuck, Dean is already prepared. His hole is puffy, red, loose, and Sam wants to sink into Dean and feel the hot tightness around his cock. “Already prepped yourself for me, Dean? I knew you needed it bad, but that bad?” “Will you just fuck me, Sammy?” Dean asks and then lets out a strangled scream as Sam thrusts into Dean without a warning. Sam groans and bites down on Dean's neck, kissing and licking the bruised skin there as he enters the other male with slow, deep thrusts. Dean spreads his legs wider obediently, and now it's his turn to whimper and moan and gasp. They both don't last long. Dean's tight heat around Sam's cock makes him go crazy and Sam's big cock presses perfectly to the right places inside of Dean. As they get closer and closer, Sam thrusts become faster, harder, more erratic. Dean's screams get louder and he reaches down to stroke his cock. Sam slaps Dean's ass hard and grins at the surprised cry. “What the...” Dean moans, and Sam leans down to whisper into Dean's ear. “No touching. You come on my cock or you don't come at all” Sam orders, and to his delight, the stripper obeys. A few minutes later, Sam comes with another low moan, painting the strippers hole with his come and ruining the wonderful black lacy panties. He grabs Dean's hand, squeezing it, their fingers tangled in each other's. Dean does come too, just from hearing Sam panting heavily and feeling Sam's come splatter all over his abused hole. The next day, before work, Sam comes to the exact same place and looks at the dried come on the wall, just to be sure that this hadn't been a dream.

Sam can't concentrate tonight, he barely manages to get the right drinks to the right customers. It's because of Dean, of course. Sam hates these nights where there's not only one stripper (as if that isn't enough!), no, two strippers on stage. One of them being Dean. And the other, a tall, muscular, blond guy, keeps rubbing himself against Dean in the most erotic way. His fingers ghost over Dean's crotch and Sam has no right to be jealous, but he is. He hates these nights. Sam tightens his hand around a glass of whiskey he is holding as Dean keeps dry humping with the other stripper. He stares at the two men on the stage, trying to get Dean's attention. He knows now that he wants Dean. Dean will be his. And he can't keep on doing that with another man. Sam needs to make clear that nobody will ever touch Dean again but him. The thing is, Dean doesn't know that Sam can be possessive. Very possessive. So as Dean begins to lick the pole and make tiny, needy noises, he doesn't know that Sam actually considers jumping onto the stage and fucking him senseless. It takes Dean another hour of dry humping, licking the pole, slowly loosing piece after piece of clothing – no panties this time – until he finally, finally looks over at Sam. The bartender is busy with serving drinks, but Dean knows that Sam is secretly watching him, glancing at him every now and then. 

Dean can feel Sam's gaze and he can feel his lust. Dean is very well aware that Sam wants him, so he teases him by slowly letting a hand wander under the waistband of his pants or grabbing his co-worker's ass. Dean can see Sam tense at that, and he enjoys it. As Dean is finished, Sam is gone. At least, Dean can't see Sam and that's strange, because Dean is absolutely sure that Sam's shift isn't over yet. Dean gets off stage and looks around. At that very moment, someone whispers “Looking for me?” into his ear and Dean smiles a bright smile as he turns around. There he is, and Dean is head over heels in love with this guy. “I don't fuck with strangers” Dean whispers back, grinning. He hears Sam's soft laugh. It makes him happy, somehow, hearing the bartender laugh. Sam looks so stunningly beautiful when he laughs. And Dean can't help but place his hands on Sam's cheeks and pull him down, pressing his lips against Sam's. Everybody watches them, of course, because it doesn't happen everyday that the hot stripper kisses the shy bartender. But neither Sam nor Dean does care. All they care about is how their lips touch and their tongues play and their hips meet. The space between them is filled with little gasps and needy whimpers. The kiss isn't needy, though. It is a simple, loving kiss, not a heated, sloppy one. It's a kiss between lovers. And maybe, that's what they've become.

The need for oxygen is too strong, eventually. Sam is the first one to pull away, leaving Dean breathless, cheeks flushed, hair messy. Dean tries to catch his breath, staring at Sam. Never in his whole life has he been kissed like that. He tilts his head, a soft smile appearing on his swollen, red lips. “We should get out of here”, Dean whispers, then immediately feeling the need to roll his eyes because that sounds like he wants to fuck again. Of course he wants to fuck, but that's not everything. He wants to get to know Sam. He sees Sam's smile fade, sees his eyes widen slightly. “Want to come to my place, maybe? I'd take you out for dinner, but I guess it's already too late”, Dean adds quickly and blushes, but what can he say? The happy look on Sam's beautiful face is definitely worth it. He takes Sam's hand in his and squeezes it. Then Sam shakes his head. “I can't, Dean, I have to work”, the young bartender whispers, pointing at the bar. He notices a girl in a red dress and an older guy staring at them. “Bet we've been a better show than Mike on the stage”, Dean comments before turning away. Suddenly, he feels stupid. He's a stripper, for fuck's sake. Of course Sam doesn't want a guy like him. And yet he thought that he was falling in love with Sam. He laughs and glances at Sam. “I understand that you can't do it. But you could've told me that before I kissed you here for everybody to see.” Dean groans in frustration, burying his fingers in his already messed-up hair.

“I… I am sorry, Dean. Can we talk about this some other time? I really have to get back to the customers”, Sam mumbles, not meeting Dean's eyes. The stripper just nods. It wasn't his intention to keep Sam from works. The music is loud as Sam turns around without another word and makes his way through the dancing, drinking, kissing people. Dean looks after him. The music is echoing in Dean's head, it's too loud, too numbing. He feels like he can't breathe and his head begins to hurt. Sam is gone and Dean stands alone in the crowd. He knows that Sam is a smart young man with a future in his hands. He knows that Sam will probably be a lawyer with fancy suits, a tie and a freaking briefcase. Sam won't end like him, in a little, dark, stinking bar, where he dances to crappy music and gets paid to undress himself in front of people who get off on the sight of him. Dean hates his job if he's being honest, but once you're in this life, there ain't a way out. He remembers his father's disgusted look or his mother's disappointed tears. This isn't what they has wished for, or what Dean has wished for. The music seems to get louder and louder until Dean thinks he's surrounded by music. He hates the song, “Naked Hustle”, a song written specifically for strippers and the strip club market, and he sees Mike playing with his nipples and dry humping the pole. And that's enough for Dean, he thinks that he might get sick if he stays here for one more second. He elbows his way through the people, the sticky air making it almost impossible to not give into the urge to gag. He needs to get out of here as soon as possible. Blindly, Dean opens the door. Outside, released from the atmosphere of cheap beer and sweaty bodies, the cold air hits him like a smack in the face. He stumbles, clinging to the wall. The exact same wall Sam fucked him against just last night. He sees other people leaving the bar, maybe it's even the same blond girl in the red dress that has watched him and Sam kissing, but Dean can't really see. In fact, he doesn't even care. What is wrong with him? Why does he feel like this, like his heart just shattered to pieces? The stinging pain deep in his chest doesn't go away, no matter how long Dean stands there, leaning against the wall.

Dean doesn't come to work the next day, or the day after that, and not even on the day after that. Sam gets worried and calls around, trying to get Dean's number or address. But nobody seems to know Dean privately, not even his co-worker Mike. Finally, Sam calls his boss. “Dean? He called me a few days ago, asking me for a few days off, he said it was a family emergency”, Ellen tells Sam. Ellen is a friendly, but strict person. Sam knows that if he wants Dean's address from her, he has to give her a damn good reason. “Ellen, can you give me Dean's address?”, he asks, praying that she doesn't ask questions. To Sam's surprise, she doesn't. “Sorry, kiddo. He asked me not to give you his address or phone number. I don't know what's going on with you guys, but… it ain't my business.” Sam's heart pounds in his chest. What if Dean thinks it was a big mistake, their flirting and kissing and fucking? But Sam is not willing to give up just yet. He loves Dean. It is just then when Sam realizes that he really does. He doesn't just crush on Dean. He loves the man. “Ellen, I need you to give me his address. I think I'm in love with him”, Sam begs, and Ellen is quiet for a bit, then she says: “163 Mc Kean Valley Road. This information isn't from me.” Sam nods though of course, Ellen can't see him. 

Half an hour later, Sam stands in front of Dean's house, playing nervously with the car keys in his jacket as he tries to decide what to do. Maybe he should just go again. Dean obviously doesn't want him to be here, so why is he even here? Because he needs to see Dean. Sam needs to be near Dean. With a sudden confidence, Sam knocks on the door. It doesn't take Dean long to open the door. The stripper wears nothing but boxers and a well-worn gray shirt. To Sam, Dean is the most beautiful person he has ever met. An expression of surprise and shock is drawn on Dean's face as he sees Sam and he stumbles back. “Sam?”, he asks in disbelief, and Sam smiles widely. “Yeah”, Sam replies and a second later, he presses Dean against the door frame and kisses him. Dean's lips are just as soft as Sam remembers, and his body is just as firm against his own. He hears a gasp from the man under him and Sam pulls away for a second. “I'm so sorry, Dean. I didn't want you to believe that I didn't want this”, Sam whispers against the other man's lips. “I do, I really do. Trust me, I do”, he continues before leaning in for another kiss. It's sloppy and wet and perfect. Their tongues soon are entangled in a hot game of licking and sucking the other's mouth and Sam needs to close his eyes. Their kiss is intense and leaves the two men needy, eager for more. “I trust you”, Dean whispers back, pulling Sam inside and closing the door behind him. They loose their clothes on the way to the bedroom. A shirt lands on the couch and a shoe in the kitchen, a belt falls on the floor in front of the big mirror in Dean's room and pants are pushed down so hastily that Sam nearly falls over. Dean grins and lays on his back on the bed, spreading his legs as Sam crawls up to him. They kiss and make out, they touch and explore each other's bodies. They don't rush things like they did in the alley. They take their time to kiss, lick, nibble, suck their ways down the other's body. They don't have sex, they make love on Dean's bed. Tiny whimpers and moans alternate with loud screams of pleasure and as they climax, Sam buries his head in Dean's neck and sucks the soft skin there, leaving a dark, visible mark on Dean's skin. They stay in bed, just kissing and touching and talking, sometimes at least, when they need to come down from another high. They laugh and giggle uncontrollably, they make more love, they eventually explore some of Sam's kinky side. It gets late, but they are drunk with love. “We should probably get a shower, change the sheets, and grab something to eat”, Dean whispers in the dim room that smells like sex and love. “We probably should. Or...”, Sam grins and kisses Dean again. “Or we wreck these sheets one more time”, he finishes his sentence and Dean's soft laughter is enough of an answer.

The sun peeks through the curtains the next morning and Dean is the first one to wake up. He smiles brightly, because Sam is laying on his stomach, not wearing anything. Sam's soft skin glows golden in the sunlight and Dean's smile becomes even wider as he notices the tiny bruises of his fingernails and the hickeys he left on every part of Sam's body the night before. He just has to touch Sam to know that he is really there, and Dean's fingers ghost over Sam's legs, up to the soft curve of his back and over his shoulders, then gently caress his face. Sam's eyes open slowly and he grins up to Dean. “Good morning” he whispers, his head still buried in the pillow and his beautiful hair still spread out around him. It's messy and Dean remembers himself combing through it, gripping into Sam's hair, tugging on the soft strands while Sam fucked him good and hard. He blushes as he takes Sam's hand. “Good morning”, he replies and leans in for a kiss. “Oh, no.” Sam shakes his head. “I don't kiss strangers”, he continues and before Dean can even react, Sam gets up and runs off to the bathroom.

Dean groans as he gets up to get himself a glass of water. He stays in the kitchen for a minute. He still can't believe how lucky he is. Sam is actually here with him. As he comes back to his bedroom, Sam is laying in his bed again. Now he wears briefs, a black pair, and Dean has the feeling that they didn't originally belong to Sam. But they fit, and Sam's ass looks damn great in them. And Dean can't get back to the bed quick enough. “I'm not a stranger, Sam”, Dean whispers against Sam's lips and the bartender just nods. “Yeah, I guess not anymore”, Sam replies before their lips finally meet again. Sam has brushed his teeth. The kiss tastes like peppermint, like his own toothpaste, like his own home. It tastes like they haven't been together one night, but their whole lives. “Wow”, Dean mumbles as they both pull away for air. “Let's talk”, Sam sighs, and Dean frowns. He didn't mean it like that. But he gets that they have to talk about this, and maybe now is the perfect time for this conversation. He just hopes that Sam hasn't changed his mind. He doesn't want to loose Sam again. “Hey, it's alright. I won't leave”, Sam assures Dean and takes his hand, squeezing it. Dean's emerald meet Sam's hazel eyes. “So, what do you wanna talk about?” Dean rests his head in his hand and looks at the young man laying next to him, half naked. “About us. I mean, are we… boyfriends?”, Sam asked, doubt in his eyes, but a smile on his lips. Probably because he loves the thought just as much as Dean does. “I want us to be”, Dean said honestly, not even thinking about it. He knows that he wants Sam and that he want to buy flowers and go on fancy dates and kiss in public and hold hands. Sam just laughs softly. Later that day, they talk about Dean's job and Sam gets jealous, and then Dean promises him to never do anything with other strippers. Sam jokes that they could move away and get jobs somewhere else, where nobody knows them. Dean doesn't tell Sam that he really likes the idea. Maybe they will do it, maybe they won't. But that's not an decision for today, Dean thinks, and spends the rest of the afternoon trying to convince Sam that he really doesn't mind being tied to the bed. Finally, Sam gives in and as Dean's wrists are tied together, his legs spread and Sam fucks him with a vibrator, there's no place where Dean would rather be. Dean comes just from the toy inside of him and the dirty words Sam whispers into his ear. And as the come paints his stomach and Sam moans softly, Dean lets the magic three words slip. “I love you”, Dean says and Sam just presses himself against Dean, not saying anything. The silence is heavy between them.

“Don't you… Don't you love me back?”, Dean whispered, turning his head to look at Sam. Without a word, Sam unties Dean and the stripper rubs his wrists. “Do, um, do you want to shower?”, Dean asks, sighing as he sits up. He flinches, the vibrator is big and stretches his hole. He is sure that he won't be able to walk tomorrow. The sun is still bright and Sam's smile should be even brighter, but the words unspoken rest between them. “Yeah, let's go”, Sam nods and gets up, then holds out his hand. “You coming?” Dean grins as he grabs Sam's hand. They get into the bathroom, bumping into each other every now and then, touching occasionally. “Did you enjoy it?”, Sam asks as Dean turns on the water and gets into the shower. The hot water runs down his body and Dean groans, closing his eyes in pleasure. He feels like a whole new man all of a sudden, the pain in his muscles slowly fading away. Sam finally joins him, and of course Dean is pressed against the shower wall. The bartender drapes Dean's body with hungry kisses. And Dean groans in pleasure, already eager to try out shower sex in his shower.

It takes them about five minutes to be completely wet, and hard. Dean is panting heavily and Sam's kisses are so good, sloppy and rough and deep. Dean's cock is standing in attention. “Please, Sammy”, he whispers against Sam's neck, gripping his shoulders. He can't believe that he is already hard again. Sam has just fucked him with a freaking vibrator and Dean thinks he has never come so hard in his whole life. But now he needs Sam again, and Dean can't describe how much he needs him. “I need you”, mumbles against Sam's lips and the bartender grins as he reaches down and strokes Dean's cock. It doesn't take long, soon Sam is buried deep inside of Dean's heat. It's tight and they don't have lube, and the water gets in their eyes as they look at each other, but it's mind-blowing and intense and perfect. Sam comes deep inside of Dean while Dean's come gets washed off their stomachs. Afterwards, they wash each other off, spending minute after minute just caressing the other's skin with gentle touches. Dean leans against the cold shower wall, enjoying Sam's hands on his body and Sam's lips on his own. Finally, Sam pulls away. He tilts his head. “Dean, I'm scared to say this. We've only been together for like… twenty-four hours. But I think I do love you back. Okay? I really love you.” 

The next day, they both go back to work. Sam serves drinks and talks with customers. Dean dances to crappy music in a dark, sticky bar. Then what is different? Dean's teasing looks and smirks towards Sam are different. Sam's breaks are longer, and mostly he spends them behind the stage, and somehow Dean seems to vanish as soon Sam is on a break. It's a mystery. What else? Dean visits Sam in his house and it doesn't take them long to decide that Dean should move in with Sam. The stripper and the bartender drive to each other's parents, and they fight with them and then, they fight with each other. They fight, but in the end, they are sorry and apologize and they make love. Their relationship isn't perfect. They are not a typical couple of a typical lovestory. They are not Romeo and Juliet. But their love is honest and pure and everything they've ever wished for. They are happy with what they have, and every night, after they've had sex or maybe after they've just had dinner, without any sexual activity, they fall into their bed and snuggle up to each other and Dean mumbles “I love you, Sammy”, sleepy and smiling, and then Sam turns his head, places a soft kiss on Dean's lips and answers with “I love you too, Dean. So much.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on @wxncxsttrxsh on Instagram.  
> Thanks for all your kind words and inspiration! I love all of you.
> 
> For all those who enjoyed this fic, follow me on Instagram!


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